Rising - Patrick Sean Lee (big screen ebook reader txt) 📗

on their own for the time being.

I can’t help but wonder about Faerborn, with the bullet in his thigh, but he seems strong as ever, incredibly, and I want to have Mondra and Tereka relate the humiliations they suffered, first. The physical wounds they must have endured. In Tereka’s eyes, particularly, I see the undiminished fierceness of pain. What ten year-old anywhere could stand what the Polit bastard guards…

Jeren, still atop Faerborn, is smiling and chattering like a tiny bird. Sant has taken Gerstam aside, grilling him with questions it looks like. They are an unlikely pair, so different physically.

“Faerborn. Your thigh. You took a bullet!” I turn to him immediately once we are all as relaxed as the situation will allow.

“It only grazed him, dear,” Mother answers. “Mondra and I cleaned the wound as soon as we were able to yesterday.” She laughs brightly. “His flesh is like iron. Honestly, I think the bullet hit and bounced.”

“You cleaned it? With what?” I ask.

“Mud,” Faerborn answers, throwing his shoulders up, causing Jeren to fly upward a foot or so.

“Clean water from a stream, Alana. We made him sit in it. I used part of Mondra’s skirt hem. And yes, the salve I made was a mixture of water and the soil surrounding the roots of the Clodah. He’ll be fine, but this terrible tramping through the forest is doing him no good.”

Ah yes, the Clodah bush. Poisonous to eat, but the salve is an ancient remedy all Black mothers know intimately, being denied medical care in that horrible city beyond the walls. I am relieved, crawl over Faerborn’s outstretched mountain of legs to part the fur and see the open wound. He winces only slightly when I push the thick hair aside. Six inches long, three of my fingers wide, but there is no blood or sign of inflammation.

“You have to stay right here, Faerborn. Mother is right, the stress of walking will only make healing more difficult. Lengthy.

“Mother, you and Father can stay behind with Faerborn. I’ll find someplace for you to hide until I’m finished with what I have to do. If the wound on Faerborn’s thigh gets infected…”

“I have more salve,” she cuts in.

“Faerborn not hide! Faerborn not scared, and leg not hurt,” my giant says emphatically.

“No, no, darling, you must rest and let the wound heal. It‘s simply too dangerous for you to be running around with an open wound,” I tell him softly, but firmly. Besides, Father doesn’t look likes he is in any condition to go much farther.

“Faerborn NOT hide.”

We shall see about that.

I leave Faerborn in his obstinate state and crawl over to the spot beside a tree where Mondra and Tereka are sitting. Mondra’s face is calm. She has an arm around our younger sister, cradling Tereka’s head on her breast.

“Tereka,” I say in my gentlest voice, “I have to go to Polit. You don’t, sweetheart. I’ll find the men who hurt you, first thing. After I punish them, I’m going to destroy every living thing in that kingdom of the underworld. I promise. Can you tell me what they looked like?”

Tereka begins to cry in little gulps.

 

 

 

ELEVEN

"No," she sobs. She buries her head deeper into Mondra, and begins to openly weep.

“It’s okay, Tereka,” Mondra comforts her. “I’ll tell Alana who they are. Try not to think about it anymore.”

Mondra. Always the strongest of us. Beautiful, but fierce. She caresses our little sister’s head with her cheek, and gently works her fingers through Tereka’s disheveled hair.

“Five of them,” she says raising her eyes to me. “All of them ten times uglier and more brutal than that one who came for you.”

Tereka bursts out in a deeper, more painful bout of crying. Shakes her head remembering, and I know I must end this twisting of the knife in Tereka’s heart.

“Not now, Mondra. Tell me their names if you know them, later,” I say softly. She closes her eyes and sighs. I lower my eyes to Tereka, and touch her heaving cheek with my fingertips.

“Tereka, you stay here with Mother and Father and Jeren. Faerborn will take care of you. Protect you.

“Won’t you, Faerborn,” I say, turning to him. I catch him on the spot, unprepared. His lip drops and he averts his eyes. “Faerborn, look at me. Eventually Polit troops will show up around here. You must protect my family. If any come near to where I hide you, you must smash them. I promise I’ll bring one of those who attacked my sisters back for you to deal with. You may squash him slowly if you like.”

“Faerborn not afraid,” is all he can think of to say in response.

“Alana knows you are not, but you are needed here, darling one. Tell me you’ll take care of my family, please.” I feel almost ashamed, jabbing him in the open spot in his heart with my plea. I know he loves me deeply. If I asked, I'm positive he’d throw himself off the highest cliff in the world for me.

I might do the same for him, knowing that somehow he would be waiting below to catch me.

Sant returns, having ended his conversation with Gerstam. He notices Tereka clinging to Mondra in tears and questions me with his eyes. I say nothing, and so he moves on.

“You’ve rescued your family. Now we have to get them far away. How big is this mainland? Where can we go?” he asks.

I wonder myself. “I don’t know for sure. All I’ve ever known is Polit and Black. I think if anyone knows, it’s Gerstam. Did he say anything to you?”

Sant shakes his head. “Only that you intend to go to Polit City and destroy it. He has no real idea of the power you possess, but he knows the power of the Heliceres. Alone, or with the rest of us, he wants to return to the one he crash-landed.”

“He’s crazy. Even if he could get it flying again, what good would one Helicere be with a hundred or a thousand enemy ships firing on him?”

“Maybe not flying it. Where would be the last place troops would look now that the two of you have left the broken ship?”

On the surface that makes sense. What good would a broken ship be to Polit? They’re looking for us, I’m certain of that, and reason tells me troops have already searched the empty ship. I’d guess they’ve moved on.

“Alana,” Sant says, searching my face, “I’ve seen what you can do, but if you really plan on going into the city…there are too many of them. All it would take is one soldier with a bead on you to end your plan of vengeance. You can’t go through with it. We have to get that ship flying. Hide in it until Gerstam gets it running again, and then either go back to Folly, or anywhere else far away from this ugly place.”

“It isn’t just vengeance, Sant. Everyone in Polit is a scourge on us, and besides, stealth is our best weapon,” I say. “We’re a screeching bird taking flight if we try to use the Helicere to escape in.

“You stay with everyone. None of us is safe until I wreck Polit and kill every one of the monsters who’s had a hand in Black’s years of terror...my sisters' terrors. Catanar's ruin. I’ll go by myself,” I end.

“Not without me. Not alone,” he replies.

“Me either,” Mondra adds. “You’ll need more than just your set of eyes, and I know who the guards are. I can help you find them. I’m going with you.”

That’s settled. She is right. Neither her nor Sant will slow me down. Sant is a ghost when it suits him, and Mondra is more athletic than I could ever hope to be with her long legs and fluid way of moving about. I gaze around. Mother is sitting at the base of a tree beside Jeren and Father, who stares blankly ahead. Faerborn has moved closer to Tereka. Gerstam has finally joined us.

“Very well, we’ll find the Helicere and get all of you settled.” I turn to Gerstam. “You are not to touch the controls, Gerstam. If the guns are still firing, you’ll let them continue…”

“Nit,” he flashes at me, “if the troops found the ship—and there’s no doubt that they did—one of them would have shut it down.”

“You leave it shut down, then.”

He shrugs his shoulders, but there is a mischievous look in his eyes. A tiny smile of, Whatever you say, Alana. This might not be the best idea, but then where else can five humans and one giant hide?

Anyway, now it is time to console Faerborn. I’ve made my point perfectly clear to Gerstam, and so I cross the space dividing Faerborn and me. He is glum, almost frightened-looking. I climb onto his knees and brush the tangles of hair off his face. He looks down at me with a morose and pleading look.

“Can you go back into the ship, Faerborn? For me. For Tereka. She will need you. We won’t be long, I promise.”

His answering voice has a deep, despairing, booming quality to it. “Why not Sant stay? Faerborn go?”

“Speed, my precious Faerborn. And quiet. And protection for my sister.”

“Faerborn run fast.”

“Yes, yes, but…” How do I say this next part without hurting him? “Your footsteps are like a thousand drums when you run. We’ll be fine, and Tereka will need you beside her, just like I needed you back on Folly. You’ll stay with her; go back into the Helicere for just a little while, won’t you? Please do this for me.”

He shifts his eyes down to Tereka. She raises her head and offers him a painful little smile. Faerborn slowly raises an arm and places it gently around her shoulder.

“Yes.”

I rise on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. “Let’s go then. I think the ship is that way,” I say pointing south and east. I jump down and go to Mother. Jeren seems delighted once again, and runs behind Faerborn to climb up the furry mountain and perch himself on his shoulders.

“Can you manage him?” I ask her.

She begins to rise, taking hold of Father’s arm. “I suppose I’ll have to. They kicked him over and over in the cell. In the side when he was lying helpless. Something is terribly wrong.”

Mother doesn’t seem so much worried for him, as much as burdened with an unwanted weight. Her words have an almost angry tone.

“Let’s just get him into the ship, if we can find it. Before I kill every single one of the Polits I’ll try to find one of their doctors and drag him back with us.”

Mother harrumphs. I leave it at that. Even though she stays near him, I sense a distance between them as wide as this forest is deep. Along with that, I also get the feeling that one or the other of them sold me out to Polit months ago, no matter their explanations that they were threatened. No matter that Marcus or Darra turned on them in the end. No time for ruminating, though. I turn, leaving her to gather up Father.

“Gerstam, you help Mother if you can. Sant and Mondra and I will go ahead and see if we can find the